


Doubt Comes in

by Mac_N_Chez



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Dean's Top 13 Zepp Traxx Mixtape, Heavy Hadestown references, M/M, Mixrtape, Mixtape, Sorry there's like little to no Sam content in this, The Mixtape, Y'all I love hadestown so much, doubt comes in, pimpmobile
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:54:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28113480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mac_N_Chez/pseuds/Mac_N_Chez
Summary: Dean makes Cas a mixtape, but Fate has other plans.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 1
Kudos: 20





	Doubt Comes in

**Author's Note:**

> The two versions of Doubt Comes In I used are, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HgAJn8gVGgQ and https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=beRyowVdqhE

Dean remembers when he found out Cas’ busted up pimpmobile had a radio that didn’t work. It had been some stupid day in the middle of July. Cas had just started his search for Kelly, and his car wouldn’t start, so of course he went to Dean. He remembers staring at the old thing, with the paint all rusted, and the questionable headlights, and the brakes that squeaked more than a mouse. 

But Dean had always shown his love through actions not words, so he got to work. He fixed the car and blasted AC/DC in the garage until he was done. When he finally went to turn the car on he saw the busted up CD player. It looked like the previous owner had fried it or something, he didn’t even know how a radio could get  _ that  _ messed up. 

Some voice in his head was pushing him to make something, do something, but what? The only thing he  _ makes _ is food. 

_ A mixtape  _ his mind supplied.

Like a lightbulb went off in his head, he got started. Cas wouldn’t be leaving for a while longer if he remembered correctly, but he would spend a while on the road, alone. He kept leaving, always leaving, always somewhere to go, never staying with them, with Dean. Maybe he doesn’t want this mixtape, maybe he’s leaving to  _ forget Dean.  _

_ Doubt comes in. _

Dean sat in his bed with all his records and cassettes in front of him trying to choose the best track list, give Cas the best mixtape he could. He was trying to drown out the doubt in his mind with the song in his head. The song of his love.

Dean had never been good with words, he didn’t have talks as a kid, most of what he learned about friends and how to interact with people was from tv and movies. When he was 16 or so, John had told him one night when he wasn’t hunting or drunk out of his mind that Mary had gone on a date with him, because he knew every Led Zeppelin song. John wanted to impress her at the time, and gave her a mixtape of his favorites from the artist. And Dean didn’t hope for his future when he was younger, he didn’t have one, that was always Sam’s job, but a small part of him hoped to do that. And now, all these years later, Dean is sitting on the floor of his room trying to decide whether to put Rain song or Ramblin’ On first like his life depended on it. He had decided that making a Zepp mixtape was weirdly sentimental, but what can he say, he is a sentimental man.

He wondered what his 16 year old self would think looking at him now. He would probably be surprised how happy Dean was with who he is. Dean used to be so snarky and rude, keeping all of his interests to himself, just fucking around, being an annoying kid. Now he openly accepted he was bisexual, even if he had yet to come out, was actively nerdy with multiple people, had his own room outside of Bobby’s house, with knives and a record player, and a desk. A young Dean would have freaked the fuck out just seeing that he had a room,  _ a home.  _

He was trying his best to convey to Cas to come home, think of him, that there’s a part of him on the road in that ugly pimp car of his. That there’s all these spaces in between here and there, point A and B, you and I, but I’m still here and my love fills the miles in between. I have nothing to say and also everything and you’re the only person I want to share that nothing with. He wanted to tell Cas that. That in Dean’s eyes he hung the moon and stars and the spaces in between and the world only spun because Cas woke up in the morning to make it so.

He remembered hearing this song Claire had played while he visited her once, by Too Many Pilots or something, he couldn’t remember. It had a broken melody and he remembered thinking how sad the song was when he first heard it. Something that seemed almost cold to the touch, like he could listen to it at night and shiver. He thought about the verses now in the early hours of the morning. There was one line he remembered, “And then I remember when you packed my car, you reached in the back and buckled up your heart. For me to drive away with.” He supposed that’s what he’s doing now then. 

He’d stood in front of Cas’ door for way too long to be normal, doubting himself again.

_ Doubt comes in and strips the paint. Doubt comes in and turns the wine, doubt comes in and leaves a trace of vinegar and turpentine. Where are you? Where are you now?  _

Finally he knocked, and he could hear the slow walk to the door, and yet even though he knew it was coming he still wasn’t prepared. He’d replayed this in his head over and over again, but when the door opened and he saw Cas without the armor of his trench coat and suit, but rather some sweatpants Dean had let him borrow and probably one of his old shirts, his sex hair up to a ten, his brain short circuited.

If Claire was here she’d probably roll her eyes and say something like “Dean.exe has stopped working, please turn him off and turn him back on to see if the problem persists.” He laughed quietly to himself at the thought.

“Dean?” 

Oh right,  _ yes _ .

The  _ whole _ reason he was here,  _ yeah _ .

His hands ghosted over the tape in his pocket. “Uhhh hey Cas,” he did an awkward wave, leaning against the door frame. He probably didn’t look too hot, with the whole I still haven’t showered since I worked on your car and oh it’s like 2 am.  _ God _ , get it  _ together _ Winchester. 

“I, uh,” fuck.  _ Fuck _ . Cas was doing that stupid head tilt thing and his eyes were all curious and shit and fuck him. 

“He may indeed, if you are lucky,” a voice in his head supplies, a voice that sounds a whole lot like Doc Holiday. 

“You’re gonna be on the road a lot,” he finally got out and Cas nodded slowly at that, like he was trying to figure out where Dean was going with this. He was still holding onto the doorknob, playing with it in his hand slightly. Was he nervous about this too?

“And, well, you, uh, your radio doesn’t work, and I thought- a dangerous pastime, I know,” 

God shut  _ UP _ , Winchester. He’s just standing there staring at you now, and  _ shut up _ .

“Well I was thinking, that you needed something to listen to so you don’t go crazy, but I didn’t just want to give you one of my old ones, even though I know you would appreciate it all the same, but I thought ‘oh hey Cas deserves a specific tape just for him, never been used’ and all that, and-“ fuck, he was rambling now. Shut up.  _ Shut up _ . 

“But ya know, uh-“ he paused. And held onto the tape a bit tighter. “Yeah, just uh here.” He handed it over to Cas. Dean tried to bury the slow rising regret that their hands didn’t brush. It felt like he was just handing Cas his heart. But his heart was still in his chest.

Or was it in his ears?

It was beating so loud he was terrified Cas must have heard it. He was just not saying anything to be polite, or was he confusing this with that Edgar Allen Poe story? His brain was running faster than the heart beating a steady rhythm in his ears Bump bump.  _ Bump bump _ . 

Oh god, _ oh fuck _ , he knew. Cas knew. Of course he knew what a mixtape meant, and Dean just stupidly handed him a mixtape, and now he’s going to slam the door in his face, or just close the door and leave in the morning and never look at Dean  _ again and, and, and- _

_ Doubt comes in. _

“Thank you, Dean. This means a lot to me.” Oh, and there he was smiling like an idiot and Dean was smiling back, because how could he not, it was like a reflex at this point.

Cas lifted his head from staring at the mixtape. He was holding it like it was some prized possession, like it was important. And Dean shouldn’t be projecting, but it made his heart flutter and half of his brain was wondering if Cas looked at Dean like that when he wasn’t looking, and the other half was too busy looking at Cas’ lips to actually think. 

“I installed a cassette player in your pimpmobile, I hope,” he paused and stared at Cas for a second who was smiling at him a bit softer now. “I hope you like it.” 

“I know I will, you didn’t have to, but I promise you I will listen to it.” And he smiled at Dean one last time, shifting to his other foot before saying something about Dean getting some sleep, but Dean was only half listening. He just nodded absently. 

He couldn’t stop smiling as he walked away from the room and down to his own, he was on cloud fucking nine. Cas liked his gift. Not only that Cas said he would listen to it. It worked, it fucking worked. Dean closed the door to his room and leaned against the back of it, hitting his head softly against the door. 

He walked farther into the room before spinning while punching into the air and falling into the bed. 

“Fuck yeah!” He stage whispered to nothing in particular.

God, he felt like a teenager who just had their first kiss or something, and all he did was give him a gift. 

But it was a mixtape.

But Cas doesn’t know what a mixtape means.

Well we can’t be sure of that.

Can we?

Dean fell asleep like that with his heart still beating steadily in his ears. A voice in his head whispering something he couldn’t quite understand.

_ Doubt comes in, and kills the light. Doubt comes in and chills the air. Doubt comes in and all falls silent, it is as though you aren’t there. Where are you? Where are you now? _

————

Cas had left that morning, he didn’t say goodbye to him. Dean was  _ not  _ a dramatic type, well he was but that was with boring things, but it  _ hurt. He _ couldn’t sit still. He hated when Cas left. He always felt on edge like this was the day Cas leaves and never comes back, this is the day he gives up on Dean Winchester as a friend. 

Somehow Cas helped a bit with his fidgeting and ADHD. The consistency, the steady presence of Castiel was so comforting to Dean. It was like he was softer at the edges, the fear and anger always seconds away from the surface was lighter when Cas was around. Cas wasn’t the cure to mental illness, but he was the constant reminder that someone is choosing to be there that doesn’t have to, Cas isn’t blood, he can leave and yet he stays.

And that’s what makes him leaving so hard.

_ Doubt comes in with tricky fingers, doubt comes in with fickle tongues, doubt comes in and my heart falters and forgets the songs it's sung, where are you? Where are you now? _

—————

He had left them.  _ On purpose.  _ Dean was so on edge he could hardly breathe, he could hardly function, this was the time Castiel never came back, never returned. He’d turned on the radio, it was playing some show tune with this deep gravelly voice,  _ bad, bad, bad _ ,  _ wrong, _ his head chanted at him. 

But a stronger voice, louder, said to keep it on, wait a moment. And Dean was weak to fight it.

_ Nothing makes a man so bold, as a woman’s smile and a hand to hold, but all alone, his blood runs thin, and doubt comes, doubt comes in. _

He quickly shut it off, trying to focus on the solid white lines in front of him trying to count the number of road signs he saw to keep from thinking about  _ him.  _

_______

Shock was one hell of a drug, that was for certain. They had burned Cas’ body. They had found the boy. And Dean felt scraped raw. He wanted to scream, to fight, to pray, to stab that kid in the back of the neck, cut his head off, make the boy  _ pay _ for what he did to Cas. At the same time he wanted to crawl into a hole and die, climb up onto the pyre right alongside Cas, wrap his body around him and protect him from the smoke and ash and flame. 

Dean  _ hated  _ smoke, always had. As a kid it was the thing that took his mom away, as a teen it was a reminder of those natural things he couldn’t control, fires and earthquakes and tornados, things he couldn’t stop Sam from experiencing. As an adult it was the smoke of every pyre or dead body of every monster they had come into contact with that had the unfortunate chance of losing. Dean Winchester  _ hated _ smoke. He wanted to be a firefighter as a child, John had told him to use his rage, that’s what a real man did. Dean doesn’t feel like a real man now, he feels like a broken toy left to rot in a McDonalds playpen off highway 74. 

The first thing that hit him was nausea, he remembered that out of the blur of the last two days. He saw the wings on the ground and he just wanted to vomit, he could feel it climbing up his throat, that stupid scratchy burn that he  _ hated _ . 

Then of course the denial set in, he’d watched Cas die before, he’d always come back, what’s any different now? He’ll just wake up any second. Dean greeted Denial and Anger like old friends, because in a way, they were. Always boiling under the surface of the dam he’d built to bury his emotions, hot and angry and  _ festering _ . 

He felt like an actor, like how that Ackles guy who played him in that weird alternate universe they went to probably felt. He wasn’t Dean, the real Dean died in that fire along with Cas. He was just playing the role of Dean. Though he knew Dean would drive the car, be strong, he couldn’t, not now. He couldn’t risk having a panic attack behind the wheel, and he couldn’t risk Baby’s health, the real Dean would never do that.

He’d thrown the keys to Sam, climbing into the passenger side before he could be questioned, wrapping the trenchcoat around himself like a blanket, covering his nose and mouth just trying to hide from the world. 

Sam stared at him a moment before getting on the road again. He wasn’t looking at his strong older brother, he was looking at the poor four year old who lost his mother in a house fire again, clutching onto the only thing left to give him comfort. He understood what Dean was going through, the stages of pure fear, regret, worry, shame, agony, disappointment, pure unadulterated grief, he went through the same thing when Jess died.

Dean prayed this would all be over soon, like it was some sort of bad dream that he just had to wake up from.

Well, no.

Prayed isn’t the right word, that doesn’t feel right. Praying to anyone other than Cas didn’t feel right. Prayer was about belief, and Dean didn’t  _ believe  _ in angels in the truest sense of the word. He knew they existed, but he didn’t have faith, not like he did with Cas.

Dean had never been a religious man, even as a child. He had told a friend once when asked that if the person he married was super religious, he simply would not go to church. Just thinking about it now makes him want to laugh, who knew he’d fall in love with an angel. An angel who’s gone. An angel who he will never see again. He suddenly feels the need to vomit again.

Slowly sinking further into the seat he started thinking. He wanted to scream, he wanted to rip the child behind him in half, he wanted to go through heaven and hell and everywhere in between and find his angel and bring him back here. He knew that Jack might be able to help, but he couldn’t even think right now. It’s all he could do, but he shouldn’t be.

He shifted in his seat, trying to turn away from Sam who he could see glancing at him every now and then. That’s when he felt it, in the pocket right next to where Cas’ heart would be was the mixtape, right there for Dean to find. It looked slightly used, like someone had traced the words over and over again with their finger while still trying to preserve the writing. So he  _ had _ listened to it.

The snap should have been expected. It was like the ground shattered below him, the tides started retreating, the ground started to shake, the river flowing backwards and he was drowning.

Oh, how he was drowning.

Everything was muffled, he had no idea what was happening, he was clawing at the coat trying to seep it into his skin, he felt like he was suffocating. He couldn’t breathe, or maybe he was breathing too much? He couldn’t see either, were his eyes open? He couldn’t remember closing them but now they felt so heavy he could never open them again. He had heard a scream, were they in a tunnel? Why was it so far away? He tried to listen closer but all he could hear was breathing and a wail that sounded familiar, and something from... the boy?

“Sam! I think Dean is hurt! Sam!” Jack screamed with genuine concern, that seems… odd? Why would the boy be concerned?

He then heard the brakes screech, but he couldn’t be bothered to  _ care _ , Castiel was  _ dead. _ Oh god he was dead. He was dead. He was dead, he was dead, he was dead, he was dead, he was dead, he-

Hands grabbed onto his face and some muffled voice said something. He couldn’t hear it, he could only see the life draining out of the angel’s eyes, bright and blinding and horrifying. It kept saying something. Maybe it was important? He should listen to this voice. 

“Dean!” Oh, it was Sam, he tried to focus on the voice, but it was so far away and it’s so easy to just ignore it. 

“Match my breathing Dean, try to match my breathing okay?” Sam had said. Dean thinks he nodded, maybe he did, maybe he didn’t but the hands seemed to like that so he went along with it. He finally felt air in his lungs and it felt like they were being set on fire, but he fought through it, or tried to at least.

The next few minutes were a blur, but when he finally was able to have more than just the pounding in his head he could feel that his face was wet and he was so low in the seat he couldn’t move his legs any farther if he stretched them out. It was Sam who was holding his face while Jack looked incredibly worried in the backseat, he reminded him of, of- 

He let out another choked sob. “Sam he- he’s gone, he’s gone and it’s my fault if I just, if I just.” Sam was rubbing his back as best he could, trying to comfort Dean on the side of the highway. Dean couldn’t even bother to care that he was having a panic attack right next to a huge fucking road. 

“It’s not your fault Dean, he chose to go and fight Lucifer, you couldn’t have stopped him if you tried.”

Dean still felt like he was underwater but it was getting better, and then it got worse. This was the dam breaking, this was a mental breakdown on the side of the highway. He knew it was coming and gave Sam what little thought he had left before he spiraled, Sam at least deserved that.

“Motel now please, long, bad, lots, not here” was all his brain could get out before he was once again in the fetal position with the seat belt digging into his back. 

Sam seemed to understand this though, god bless him, quickly getting into the car and driving to some motel that Dean wouldn’t remember the name of. He gathered himself up and fell onto the bed as it all came down at once. Every emotion he’d bottled up since he was four was coming out in hiccups and tears and wails, he was a banshee of fear and despair, screaming of the death of his beloved. 

_ Doubt comes in. The wind is changing. Doubt comes in, how cold it’s blowing. Doubt comes in, and meets a stranger, walking on a road alone. Where are you? Where are you now? _

_ —————- _

_ Castiel woke up in the empty. _

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so yes, the fates are like, influencing Dean, because I said so.


End file.
